Royspace

Something To Smile About + FemmeLounge

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 07:57:00 +0000

Hello People!

I stumbled on this, it made me laugh! and I decided to share it here.

Just smile :)

Top 10 Sayings of Moms in the Bible

10. Samson! Get your hand out of that lion. You don't know where it's been!

9. David! I told you not to play in the house with that sling! Go practice your harp. We pay good money for those lessons!

8. Abraham! Stop wandering around the countryside and get home for supper!

7. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego! I told you never to play with fire!

6. Cain! Get off your brother! You're going to kill him some day! (like duh!!)

5. Noah! No, you can't keep them! I told you, don't bring home any more strays!

4. Gideon! Have you been hiding in that wine press again? Look at your clothes! (Judges 6:11)

3. James and John! No more burping contests at the dinner table, please. People are going to call you the sons of thunder! (Mark 3:17)

2. Judas! Have you been in my purse again?! (He can't help it mum! heehaw!)

michz83.multiply.com

And the number one is:

1. Jesus! Stop working on that old wood and come in and eat! You'd spend your life on that wood, if your father asked ya to!* (And He did, Halleluyah!)

Serious one here ------ * Please note that the word "spend" isn't used in the sense of time, but in the sense of "giving his all" "being poured out."

Kinda reminds me of Sunday school days. :)

P.S. Last week I posted a flash piece on www.femmelounge.com ( a great online magazine for young women!) titled On The Brink: When Nothing Makes Sense.

If you haven't already, you can read it here http://www.femmelounge.org/?p=5091
I'm grateful to everyone who shared and left a comment. Thanks for the love!

Cheers!

Roy.

Out of the Ashes #Nain

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 08:06:00 +0000

She had been at the back of the house cleaning when she heard the commotion. It didn’t mean much to her at first. Children played and fooled around all the time but the more she worked the more uneasy she felt. What could be going on?

She washed her hands and headed to the front of the house. She stopped at her son’s door and peeked into the room. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, like he had left in a hurry. The last time she saw him he had said something about going fishing with his friends. She shrugged and kept on walking. At the front of the house, women and neighbours had gathered, crying hysterically.

“What is it?” she cried, apprehension seizing her on the spot. “What has happened? “

One of the older men walked up to her and bowed his head, his voice as thin as a whisper. “Your son. I’m sorry.”

Time seemed to freeze at his words. Her head felt like it was ready to explode. Thoughts ran through her mind at breakneck speed. She fell to her knees unable to take it all. Minutes later, she sat amongst five other women who tried in vain to comfort her.

Why her? How was she to know he was going to play and roughhouse at the river? He only said something about going fishing. He had just started to apprentice with one of the more popular and accomplished fishermen.

She covered her face with her palms and wept. She wept for all the hopes that had been dashed, all the dreams that will never see the light of day, her precious son.

*****

The pain clutched at her heart threatening to send her into fainting mode. She trudged along behind the coffin, swaying unsteadily from side to side, her black cloak gathering dust and debris behind her. Her little daughter clung to her, confused and afraid. She looked around at the mourners who had come along on the long trek to the burying place. All she could think of was her son, her precious son, her pride and joy.

She never imagined that she will ever be in such a state. ‘We’ll be together, forever’ she mumbled what were the words of her husband, those many years ago when they got married. She was as excited as any starry eyed bride would be. Thoughts of their future always filled her with so much joy. It was her dream, her all consuming desire to raise a loving family. But things didn’t quite work according to plan.

Walking behind a casket for the second time in her life, her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. Her breath came in short gasps as she clung to her daughter’s hand for support.

The song of the mourners washed over her like an evil dream. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. A teardrop ran down her cheek and came to rest on her lip. The saltiness of the tear was about the only sensation she felt. Her heart, her body, her mind was numb. Will she ever recover from this?

She must have drifted off in her mind for minutes, for she did not notice that the bearers had stopped. And everyone’s attention was focused on the tall man in rabbi clothes. He walked up to her slowly and surely, making her wonder what was going on. There were several men with him; all had something striking about them.

When he got close enough and looked her in the eye, her heart raced and the proverbial scales feel off her eyes. “Master!”

His words were few but comforting. “Don’t cry.”

He turned and walked up to the casket. The bearers had stopped and were watching with fascination. He touched the coffin and said boldly, “Young man, I tell you, Get up.” Someone gasped at such audacity. What did he expect, for the dead to rise up and answer him? It felt like hours, really, but mere seconds later the coffin opened and Joses spoke. Her son spoke! He sat up in the coffin and was looking around, wondering where he was.

The master held him by the hand and handed him over to her. She held her son in a tight embrace, eternally grateful to be able to hold him again. Her heart rejoiced as she held Joses in her arms but her eyes were on the master as he walked steadily away, his men in tow.

Luke 7:11

Roy

Happy New Year + A testimony!

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 13:10:00 +0000

Happy New Year!

Phew! I'm very late, I know, but my wishes are sincere, believe me.
I'm praying you'll have a great year ahead. Much more fulfilling than any other before now.

I want to share a testimony with you. A real testimony if there ever was one.

One day, a group of people were having a meeting in an office complex. They were seated in one of the many conference rooms in the building. All of a sudden there was a loud, ominous bang and the walls of the complex came tumbling down. There was confusion everywhere, people running pell-mell trying to run for cover.

One of the men who had been in the conference room, was thrown in the air at the explosion. he landed with a heavy thud of the floor, a slab of concrete quickly landing on his belly, a dislodged table after it. In short he was buried under a pile of rubble. He was able to look beside him. and what did he see, his colleague who had been sitting beside him, dead. He looked to the right, same thing. Several of the people he had joked and laughed and talked with were lying around the room in different states on consciousness or lack of it. All he could mutter was 'Jesus, Jesus.'

He struggled to get to his feet and found his way outside where he gathered that a crazy fellow had rammed into the building and detonated a bomb, killing himself and several other occupants of the complex in the process.

He couldn't believe it. Some people were dead, their heads blown off. He was checked by paramedics and taken to the hospital. He wasn't bleeding and he only felt a slight pain in his belly. At the hospital he saw several injured people. Some with their arms and legs severed. He was in shock but he just wanted to get out.

The doctors checked him and didn't find any bruises or injuries but they knew he wasn't totally out of danger. After a while he started having serious pains in his belly. It got worse and I think he passed out.

Anyway, I can't remember the details clearly now but he got real bad and had to be taken to the general hospital. They were to perform a minor operation. After a while he got infected, his lungs, his kidney, his liver, the infection kept spreading.

He had to be flown to South Africa for further treatment. At some point he fell into a coma and was unresponsive for a whole month. He was hooked to several life support machines at the time.

While at the hospital, his wife kept praying and speaking the word over his life. She got a cup of water and prayed then anointed him with it. She couldn't get any oil. She rejected all the doctor's reports and kept speaking life over her husband.

A month later he suddenly opened his eyes and spoke. It was a miracle and the doctors called him the man with the nine lives. His wife was overjoyed, glad that she had not given up on the word that could save and deliver.

The man got better and then told the story of where he'd been (you know we're much more than our bodies right?) and what he'd seen during that one month.

He had been taken up by an angel. They ascended until he could see the earth. He also saw hell, and people suffering and in agony. He was then taken to heaven. and Jesus came and spoke to him.

I can't remember the details of their conversation now but it was something about Jesus asking him, "Will you come with me and be my friend?" Our friend said "Yes lord I will."

And angels sang in the background. He remembered the song clearly even when he woke up.

Our friend was discharged a month after this. He spent only two months in the hospital after the doctors predicted that he had only a slim chance of survival.

What an awesome testimony!

No. It isn't fiction. It happened. Like seriously. The man's name is Mr. Olukoga. He was one of the 'victims' (now Victor!) of the UN Abuja bomb blast last year.

He gave the testimony live at my church on 31st night, complete with pictures of him in the hospital, connected to several machines, tubes running everywhere.

I was stunned.

I do not doubt the power of my God to save and deliver. I'm just amazed at the ways He chooses to show His power.

The fool says in his heart that there is no God.

Na bible talk am!

Roy.

Of Boundaries and Limits, Prophets and Wives...

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 20:51:00 +0000

Elisheba spread the quilt at the foot of the bed and sat down gingerly, taking in the contents of the room. She had had the same room since they got married, they had no more land than her husband was entitled to, no more money than was rightfully theirs.

She got up and walked round the room, touching this, feeling that. In certain ways the room they shared reminded her of the life they’ve had together. Even though he was hardly home, because of his job as prophet and judge, she had no reason to complain. She had been blessed many times over.

**************

She remembered many years ago when she considered Sam’s proposal. Her hesitation was not due to lack of feelings for this man who had spent all his life in the temple, serving. It wasn’t due to the fact that he hadn’t had any real close connection with his own immediate family. No. these issues had been settled in her heart. What she wanted to know was his ideals. Had he decided in his heart to follow Jehovah no matter what? To live by his laws and respect his commandments? Will he treat other people fairly, judge with equity and fairness?

His position was important but will become more so when his call went beyond serving tables and temple proceedings. Will he live true to his call no matter what?

Her mother’s advice had been simple but profound, “Ask him. You want to know what his ideals are. If he’s with Jehovah for the long haul? Ask him! That’s the only way to be sure. Don’t assume anything.”

Elisheba took that advice to heart and she wasn’t disappointed. A few months later, they were married.

**************

She folded up the quilt again and set everything in the room straight. Sam was meeting with the people today. Many years after he became judge, the people wanted a king. They had rejected the Lord. Sam had tried to dissuade them but they would have none of it.

The coronation was to take place that day in Gilgal and she had planned to attend.

She set out early and got there just at the nick of time, after the King had been crowned, to hear Sam address the people. This was no simple coronation, it was the relinquishing of his place as judge over the country, to hand over God’s people to their chosen king, Sam had to give account.

The crowd was still ecstatic as she walked through their midst. Drums were pounding, young men dancing feverishly. Soldiers lined both ends of the open space, the whole length of it. At the far end of the field to the right, the altar had been set up. Blood ran through the grooves and trenches beside the altar. The peace offerings had been sacrificed, sheep, goats and pigeons slain.

Saul, the son of Kish sat on the coronation throne, under the tent where the crowning had taken place. His expression was a blend of strength and uncertainty.

The stones in his crown shown brightly as he turned this way and that, taking in the vastness of the crowd before him.

A shiver ran through her spine as the Horn was blown, drawing her out of her thoughts. It was crunch time. The temple guard blew the horn again till the noise of the crowd was lost in its compelling notes. All eyes turned to the Coronation tent.

Sam’s gait commanded authority as he walked upfront. His raised arms drew a hush from the teeming crowd.

“Listen!” his voice rang out, his gray beard shining in the afternoon glow. “I have done what you wanted; now you have a king!”

The cheer of the crowd was deafening. They screamed, hollered and whistled, waving their cloaks and tunics in the air. It took another blast of the horn to calm their excitement. There was more.

“Your King is here, but I,” he beat his chest lightly, his face stern, his voice booming like a thousand harps, “I have been amongst you since I was a boy, now I am old. Who have I wronged?!”

The arena was so calm you could hear a pin drop. Elisheba caught a few heads shaking slightly.

“Have I extorted from anyone? Oppressed anyone, defrauded anyone or taken a bribe that I should be ashamed now?!” He looked around expecting a response. Amidst the shaking heads, darting eyes and shifty feet, no one could answer in the affirmative.

Elisheba released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. Her worst fears had been allayed; Sam was cleared, not only in Jehovah’s eyes but in the eyes of the people. It was the fulfillment of the decision they had both made when they became man and wife. Setting their boundaries and defining their limits hadn’t been easy. He, as a husband, Prophet and Judge and she, as a dutiful wife. It had all been worth the effort.

courtesy rollingout.com

She heard no more. She turned back and found her way back home; Sam’s next words a distant echo.

Out of the blue, the skies darkened and rain poured down heavily as she trudged on home. The thunder that tore through the skies was scary; it was a sign that the Lord was angry but also that he was merciful and will forgive.

She was totally drenched when she stepped into their house, but her resolve had never been stronger. They would keep their roles defined, he as husband and Prophet and she, a dutiful Wife.

1 Samuel 12:3

Something More Than Flour and Oil...

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 09:31:00 +0000

She sat feverishly on the wobbly seat, fear clutching at her throat as she watched the old man carry her son up the loft. She would never believe, not in a thousand years that her son, her only son, her pride and joy was gone. She stifled the wail that was bubbling up in her throat as she rocked back and forth on the creaky chair. She tried to picture the events of the past few days.

He had come in from the fields one afternoon sweating all over. His skin was hot and flaming. She cooled him down with a soft cloth dipped in cold water and gave him some herbs. He seemed better that evening but got worse the next day. She arranged to take him to the physician but her friend prescribed some wonder drug that was great for fevers.

He only got worse. She didn’t think to talk to the Old man about it as he was hardly around. If he wasn’t off somewhere he was holed up in his room, meditating, as he called it.

Now as she sat there, waiting, hoping that her son will return to her, she recalled her first encounter with the old man and chided herself for not consulting him earlier.

**********

The famine had started so suddenly. Nobody was prepared. Barns were almost empty, the fields were bare and water was scarce. Fearing for her son’s survival she set out to prepare what would be their last meal. Even firewood was gold, and she had to forage around for it.

She didn’t think it was anything when this old man called out to her and asked for a jug of water. He did look tired and worn out. She shrugged and went to get some for him. It was just water, she could handle that. But his next words almost made her laugh. “And while you’re at it would you bring me something to eat?” Talk about pushing his luck! She didn’t even have enough!

“Don’t worry about it.” he’d said, “Just go ahead and make some for me, then you can use what’s left for yourself. This is what the Lord says, you will have enough flour and oil till the Lord sends rain to end this famine.”

Now, the amazing thing wasn’t the ludicrous request; it was the urgency with which she carried it out. Something about him just told her she could trust him then. So why didn’t she tell him her son was ill? In fairness she didn’t ever think it could get this bad.

She got up and paced the floor. He had taken the lifeless body of her son up the loft to the little room she provided for him. What was going on in there? Her fear rose with each passing minute. Who was this man anyway? Why should her son die at this time? Had she done something to deserve this? Something she didn’t know about? Was she paying for a sin, an unforgivable wrong? Her husband had died mysteriously too. She had grieved for months, not wanting to be consoled. Will she lose her son too? She shook the thoughts away. Her son had to live.

She heard the old man’s voice raised in petition as he prayed for her son to be spared. Hope rose in her at the urgency with which he prayed. Maybe he hadn’t come to punish her after all. Maybe her son would live again.

After a while she scrambled up from the seat when she heard the old man’s steps coming down the stairwell, in his arms, her little boy!

Courtesy Yahoo groups

She stood rooted to the spot, her mouth refusing to work. The joy that flooded her heart could not be described. She found her voice again when she held her son in her arms, his warm hands clinging onto her neck.

“You really are a holy man,” she said looking up at the old man with tearstained eyes, “When you speak, God has spoken -- a true word!”

She hugged her son tight, grateful for another chance.

She would forever remember that sunny afternoon when she went out on a limb, taking heed to what had seemed an extremely ridiculous request from a stranger.

I Kings 17:10-24

Roy.

The Small Print By Abimbola Dare (A must read!)

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 09:15:00 +0000

Hi people,

I recently started following Bimbylads (Abimbola Dare) on twitter and got to know about her new book titled ‘The Small Print.’

I’m very excited about this! I have read an excerpt on Naijastories and I must say I really looked forward to reading the book. She's a great writer and now on my to-watch list. I'm just about to dig into the book but I’ll give you some info before I go.

Below is her profile and a description of the book.

Abimbola Dare started writing Christian fiction after a deep conviction to use her writing for God's glory. All her books are African themed, with rich, authentic African characters. She is happily married and lives the UK with her family.

Website: http://www.abimboladare.com

Twitter: bimbylads

Facebook: Facebook profile

Blog: http://www.abimboladare.com/bimbysblog

Book Blurb

Ambitious illegal Immigrant Wale Ademola has the perfect solution to avoid deportation: a contract marriage to attractive stranger, Jennifer Lennox. Nothing could possibly go wrong-that is until Jennifer makes a demand that threatens to jeopardize Wale’s greatest desire.

Sheltered Christian housewife Sade Williams thinks nothing of secretly working behind her husband’s back. When a devastating discovery at home causes Sade to question the integrity of her marriage and faith, she turns to her charming colleague, Wale for comfort. And then the unthinkable happens…

Embittered by a wrecked contract and a shattered heart, Jennifer Lennox sets on the warpath of vengeance…
Twisted in a web of infidelity, deceit and lies, three individuals must battle insurmountable challenges- on a journey across two continents- to discover that it is in the midst of despair, confusion and desperation that God’s unconditional; all- consuming love shines the brightest.

Please purchase and spread the word!

@bimbylads, Congrats sis!

God bless

Roy!

Mother of the Gift

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 04:34:00 +0000

The soldiers charged into the Princes quarters, breaking into every single room in the high walled fortress and dragging out the young royals. There was screaming, wailing and utter confusion in the air. Taking advantage of the moment ‘Sheba ran into the quarters tugging impatiently at her flowing robe. She made her way straight to the baby’s cot. The little child was screaming at the top of his little lungs. Her heart was in her throat as she wrapped him in her shawl and strapped him to the many bundles of fabric she carried. His room was in the back corner, well hidden from view. She pulled the bundles with one hand, praying not to suffocate the little thing and grabbed the young attendant’s hand. They scrambled out of the quarters through a back gate hoping to God he wouldn’t cry and expose them all.

Image Courtesy plantedatoakhill.blogspot.com

Ataliah’s reign of terror had begun only days after ‘Sheba’s half brother and King of Judah, Ahaziah was murdered and already there were soldiers on every street corner. She wondered how Ataliah was able to muster an army at such short notice. Could she have been planning a rebellion? Against her own son? The thought was too disturbing.

So lost in thought was she that she didn’t hear the soldier across the road barking orders.

“Hey, you stop!” she halted, breathing rapidly. She knew she had to be strong; she was a King’s daughter after all. She lifted her chin and faced the offending soldier. Pulling back her veil she revealed the royal crest worn my princesses. She wouldn’t need to defend herself with words, would she?

She could feel the soldier’s angry eyes on her but she didn’t flinch. Instinctively she pulled the bundle closer. She thought she heard the baby whimper but it must have been her imagination. The soldier looked at the young girl behind her, jutting his chin with a slight frown.

“My nurse.” She said, tightening her hold on the girl.

Only minutes after they had moved away from the soldier’s cold glare did she realize she was digging her nails into the poor girl’s palms. She gently loosened her hold. The young girl smiled at her, a tiny sad smile that made tears pool at the corner of ‘Sheba’s eyes.

They reached the temple and went straight to her husband, Jehoiada, the priest. She had confided in him about keeping the little prince. In fact the whole idea had been his. The man understood the times. Ataliah’s evil reign would expire but the crown had to be ready.

‘Sheba settled tiny little Joash in the storeroom at the back of the temple. His young nurse, Adah, swore to secrecy. She would live there with him and tell no one till the time was right. She had been Joash’s nurse since he was born a year ago.

That night, ‘Sheba lay on the temple floor; her heart heavy with pain but lightened all the same with the prospect of a son.

∞

Jehoiada rallied the security forces loyal to the royal family. All the temple and palace guards had gathered that bright Sabbath morning. Well armed, they took up positions around the little king. He wore a royal purple robe, heavily embroidered with gold, as was befitting for a King. His crown was specially made for a seven year old, with sparkling gem stones set in solid gold.

Image Courtesy blog.beliefnet.com

‘Sheba watched from the window, her veil half covering her face. Again, she knew she had to be strong. Six whole years she had cared for him. It was time to let him do what he was born to do.

She would never forget the night before; he had sat on her laps staring into the fireplace, no doubt contemplating the life before him in his little head.

“What will I do?” he’d asked, still looking into the fire and again, she told him all about himself. How he was preserved and raised for the throne. How she knew from the first day she saw him that there was something special about him. How she had sworn herself to an oath, to protect and nurture him.

She searched her heart, could she feel the satisfaction of fulfillment? Was she sure, absolutely sure that she couldn't have done this any other way? A faint sigh escaped her lips.

He was the child she never had; she had done her best by him.

She dragged her mind back to the present as shouts of ‘Long live the King!’ rent the air. The frenzied shouts and noise of celebration was deafening. The people were ecstatic, the reign of terror was over, a new day had come. She should be happy. She was happy, but there was pain exactly where her heart rejoiced.

Through the tears glistening in her eyes, she saw him hesitate and look toward her, his innocent eyes filled with uncertainty. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. He nodded, ever so slightly, before taking the lead of the guards as they made their way to the palace.... he was King.

∞

Many years later, after he had learned, ruled and had become a man; the King attended a celebration in honour of ‘Sheba’s twin sons. They were his brothers, sons to the only mother he had ever known.......

2 Kings 11(Remember Joash the boy-king?)

Roy

Independence, Klorofyl Magazine and then some...

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 19:09:00 +0000

Happy Independence People!

I must confess I'm not so excited today but I'm glad Nigeria is still here. What I want to know is where we go from here. I don't want to wait five, ten or twenty years to see the Naija I dream of. Can I please experience it now? Sigh..who should I be saying this to? Our leaders? Politicians? the president? the youths? I tire o.

Baba God, na your hand we dey.....

On to other things, I want to share with you a few of what I've been seeing and reading.

First on the list is 'Don't miss your moment' a book by Judy Jacobs (you remember the dancing lady minister at the Experience Lagos 2010?)

If you are like me, and you're curious about your purpose on earth, you should read this book. Really, you should. It brings to mind my favourite catch phrase for purpose, 'the mystery of predestination.'

Also, please check out Tolu Odukoya's 'Gifted and Proud.' It's Her new single featuring Onyeka Onwenu. Tolu is blessed with a great voice, and if you're wondering, yes, she is Late Pastor Bimbo Odukoya's daughter. I would have posted the video here from youtube but for some weird reason blogger's video thingy has gone awry, so please click HERE to watch it.

Courtesy totalwraponline

Last, but certainly not the least, you should check out Klorofyl Mag! These guys are something else. Kudos to Tolu Oloruntoba and his team. I thought their first issue was great but the second one themed 'Habitat' is even better. The articles are awesome, the photography is out of this world. It's free too, for now *wink* so please download away. Click HERE and make sure you spread the word.

We have great minds in this generation.We indeed have a great future.

That's all for now. Thanks for stopping by.

Roy

Chariot Wheels and Sea Horses

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 14:25:00 +0000

courtesy of commons.wikimedia.com

Portia just stood there mesmerized, her hands held out in front of her. Had she just given away her jewelry, heavy, pricey gold and silver bracelets, earrings and necklaces? She looked around the room. Her normally full closet was almost empty. Her purple robes, cotton and silk garments had all been given away. She rushed to the window and looked at Rakel’s retreating back.

Nothing was out of place. She was still the same mousy Rakel who couldn’t look her in the eye, the same girl who worked so hard at chores but couldn’t stand up for herself even if her life depended on it.

She walked back to her bed and sat down gingerly trying to recollect how the whole scene had played out.

She had been sitting in her little corner, pondering on the unfortunate trend of events in the past few weeks. Her door creaked open and there was Rakel, in all her mousy glory, head bowed as if in deferential reverence. She moved further into the room and looked at Portia briefly, averting her eyes once again.

Rakel was a slave girl. It was expected that she be humble and subservient and today was no different, at least until Portia asked her what she wanted.

“I’d like to have some things from you, ma’am.”

Portia rose from her couch and walked to her. She had always treated Rakel like the slave that she was but today, something was different. She felt almost like Rakel deserved something. She didn’t know what but the feeling was strong.

“What things Rakel?” Her tone was mild, almost kind.

Rakel’s mouth worked, but no sound came. She seemed to be struggling with whatever she wanted to say. She would normally have made for a pitiful sight but Portia was ....well kind today.

“You can tell me.” Portia encouraged, touching her shoulder tenderly. The gesture seemed to encourage Rakel. She looked up and gave her a tiny smile and a nod.

“I’d like to have some of your gold and silver jewelry. I know you have lots but I won’t take all.” She wringed her hands as she spoke, her eyes darting around the room. “Some nice clothes too. Purple preferably and some silk. And oh, cotton is comfortable. I’d like that too, if you please.”

Portia smiled like a silly teenager, took a few steps away and reached into her closet. Rakel deserved this, didn’t she? She had been very hardworking and respectful; surely she could part with these articles just for her.

Or so she had thought.

Portia now closed her eyes and forced herself to think hard. What should she do? Race after the slave girl and retrieve her things? No, she better stay put. But meanwhile she had to think of what to tell Djer when he returned and knowing him, it had better be good.

*****

Djer paced the palace court grounds, his mind working at full speed. They had to do something. It was beneath the Kingdom to condone this kind of disgrace. And from slaves too! No. they had to attack.

He looked up at the skies. They had gone, but they were many and ill prepared for such a journey, surely they could still overpower them. He continued pacing, waiting for the king to emerge from his quarters. As Commander in chief, surely he had some say as to what battles they fought or retreated from. He intended to take full advantage of his position.

A Soldier walked past him and saluted. He waved him off. This was not time for frivolous courtesies. He looked down from the palace courts across the province which was now looking like a countryside settlement. How dreadful!

He stopped only long enough to consider the gravity of his feelings. Sure, save for his cattle and sheep, he hadn’t lost much that night. The commotion and wailing had been deafening. The prince had died, along with any person or thing that was a first born. Such sorcery was beyond him. The king had to be grieving, but this was no time to back down. He shouldn’t have given the orders to dismiss the slaves in the first place. He should’ve consulted him. They just had to get them back.

He heard the call as the king emerged from his chambers. He ran into the inner chamber, his feet pounding on the stoned floors. The sight of the King made Djer stand still and salute in reverence. His bloodshot eyes and a fixed mouth only meant business, Djer's own heart started to race in anticipation of the coming attack. He clenched his fist at his sides, waiting for the word.

The king flung off his outer robe revealing rippling muscles on a lean frame. A servant scrambled to pick up the purple robe as the royal armoury was brought in. He looked at Djer, eyes cold as steel. “Get the chariots, the whole army! We pursue!”

That was all he needed to hear. Djer swung into action, summoning the kings’ cavalry. They were ready in no time. The King stepped into the royal chariot with Djer and they were off.

‘So, Djer. How do we run?” He asked, above the noise of pounding horse feet and clanging of the chariot wheels.

“They did not go by the region of Philistia; I guess they have good reason. I have word they have gone by Succoth and have encamped by Etham at the edge of the wilderness!” Djer shouted back, the wind messing with his words. But the King heard.

“Ah! Great! Then there’s nowhere to go. They’re hemmed in. I guess they need a better navigator, so to speak!” Laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he spoke, deep, wicked humourless laughter. Djer nodded in admiration. Yes! Hate was the way to go. It fuels your passion and keeps the rage burning. Who can stand before such a combination?

They kept going at breakneck speed. The horses charged ferociously, they hardly needed the whips, they were sufficiently excited.

They finally caught them encamped at the red sea, in front of Zephon. They were sprawled around the grounds like sheep with no shepherd. They were weak and helpless. Djer motioned for the chariots to slow down. The foot soldiers were coming behind. He would have loved to charge into their midst and ram them far into the sea but no, they wanted them alive. They were slaves, their slaves.

Even the King could sense the unrest that had settled on the multitude like a cold blanket. Children ran to their mothers and men stood up hastily, looking around for a way of escape at the sight of the emerging army.

All the horses had slowed down considerably and were now slowly advancing toward them. It was heady moment for Djer but not so much. He willed them to resist, to try to prevent the army from reining them in. That would bring him some pleasure; a lame surrender was no challenge. But nothing prepared him for what he saw.

Was that a cloud, mist or what? He leaned forward and looked intently. It was indeed a cloud, a lone wound up mass of gas looking like a huge formidable pillar moving from right in front of the Israelite slaves. It moved slowly but swiftly all the same and before he could blink twice, it had stood right in front of the cavalry, blocking out their vision of the slave camp. His soldiers had begun to panic as darkness struck on their side of the divide. He could see a sliver of light breaking through from the other end but that was all. He called for the special ring to surround the king’s chariot. Horses neighed in confusion as they tried to meander in the thick darkness that hung like a cloak over them. He blew the rest signal and all the movement stopped. At least the King was surrounded. Whatever evil machinations that was at play here better try harder, it‘ll take much more than flimsy light manipulations to deter the King’s army.

Djer was resolved to wait it out. Minutes passed, then hours and they stayed the whole night, rooted to the spot unable to move because the cloud before them was menacing.

courtesy of hotimagessearch.com

Then out of the blues, there was a loud rumble as a strong wind blew. They had to hold the chariots down with rods to keep them from toppling over. The unsettled dust blew into their eyes and ears, the cold wind biting deep into their flesh. Soldiers were shouting the names of the gods like a life line. And just like it started it stopped mysteriously. They all got on their feet to see the damage and their jaws almost dropped at what they saw.

What on earth would divide the sea? How could the ground be stripped bare, the waters gathered like a stone wall on both sides?! Such sorcery, such magic, such manipulation of the elements had never been heard of! Djer turned to the King and wasn’t surprised to find him utterly stupefied. But he rallied quickly. Seeing the Israelites slaves were making a not so quick getaway, trudging along in their droves on bare ground, on what should have been sea; he motioned to Djer to follow. Quick to prove his worth, Djer gave an ominous shout and the whole cavalry charged forward, the horses strained, their deadly hoofs hardly touching the ground. Bred for the kings army, they were ten times better than ordinary Mares.

The noise of chariot wheels were no match for the deep guttural shouts of “Forward! After them!” as Djer urged on the Egyptian army. This was no battle against slaves; the gods were at war here.

The words had scarcely crossed his mind when a strange but deathly strong force nearly knocked off his chariot. It felt as though a boulder had dropped on it from nowhere. The driver struggled with the reins as the wheels clanged and shook. They finally came off on top speed making him drive heavily as the horses were still charging furiously. Djer looked back and fear gripped his heart when he saw that the same thing had happened to all the other chariots.

The fear and confusion in the voices and faces of the soldiers only mirrored what he felt at that moment. What had he said about the gods? He was right, chariots, horses and all; they were no match for these seeming helpless slaves. It was time to retreat!

Alas! There was no time, for before he could muster the words, that evil wind blew again, almost knocking his head off his shoulders. He looked up amidst the confusion in which his army had been thrown and his heart further caught somewhere deep down in his gut.

The sea was back! With more strength than Djer could describe. Screaming, kicking and trashing around in utter dismay, he took his first gulp of salty water and he knew his fate was sealed...

courtesy of 01varvara.wordpress.com

Adios Djer! :)

Exodus 12: 35-36

Exodus 14:5-31

The End.

Atmosphere for miracles: An 'old' short story

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 16:32:00 +0000

He cast a wary glance at the doctor who walked in, complete in scrubs and gloves. The doctor did a double take as he looked into his eyes.

“Mr. K, you need to take your rest. Three straight days with little or no sleep,” he clicked his tongue and shook his head for emphasis, “it’s taking its toll on you.”

Tam didn’t want to argue, the last thing he wanted was to leave. He looked down at the tiny hands wrapped protectively in his large ones. They didn’t look familiar. He wished they belonged to someone else. Someone he didn’t know and didn’t have to bother about.

The medical contraption running around the room looked hideous. The blinking lights, the beeping noises, the cold feel of metal. This didn’t have to happen.

“We’re running a fresh set of tests this evening. She’s still not responding to the therapy. We need to be cautious about the drugs though, for a five year old, it could be dangerous,” he shook his head again. The gesture was beginning to annoy Tam.

He nodded and looked away, at his little angel lying helplessly, looking lifeless. The doctor walked out after doing his normal checks.

His heart was heavy. He got on his knees and closed his eyes. Clasping his hands he proceeded to pray. No words came. He tried to gather his thoughts, free his mind and let out his fears. This was too much for him. His lips, clamped together shook uncontrollably as he tried to suppress the tears. He bit his tongue hard till he tasted blood. Hot tears poured down his face.

He hadn’t cried in years. What he wanted to do was pray but couldn’t form the words; no words borne of human imagination could express what he felt. He fell onto his side on the cold, hard hospital floor. He curled up in a fetal position, groaning and moaning.

The words came like a soft sigh. Like a trickle of water, faint but unmistakable.

Tamilore, I Grieve Because You Grieve

It seemed like eternity had passed when he heard a sound from the bed. He sprang up and rushed to her side.

“Tomi,” his voice was ragged and hoarse, “Tomi, can you hear me? Daddy’s here, I’m here.” He stroked her lean cheeks.

She recoiled at his touch. He frowned, wondering what could be wrong. He touched her face again. She cried out in pain.

“Doctor!” he screamed, “Nurse!” he scrambled from the room, frantically, almost knocking down the poor nurse who had come running at his call.

The hospital equipment all started beeping and clicking in tandem. For the next fifteen minutes, chaos reigned as nurses and doctors crowded around the bed.
He waited outside pacing around like a caged lion. He sobbed quietly, his hands locked behind him. Pain raced through him, anger and fear and some other unidentified emotion. He was thoroughly confused.

What if…? He hadn’t finished the thought when Paul rushed in.

“How is she?” he asked, panting softly.

“Dunno,” He pointed to the door. “Doctors are in there...”

A sad expression passed across Paul’s face. He shook it off immediately, trying to be calm and helpful. He patted his friend’s back, his head bowed. He remained quiet for a few minutes, his lips moving, and his hands still on Tam’s back.

“It’ll be well, Tam. Let’s believe.”

He nodded.

Paul shifted on his feet. He looked uneasy. Tam stared at him wondering what was wrong.

He handed Tam a colourful flyer. “You forgot about this.”

Tam handed it back in a hurry. “I didn’t.”

“So? How do we handle it?”

“Look, I don’t know. Just handle it, anyhow. I don’t care.” his impatience with the issue was obvious. He walked to the window, pulling back the blinds, he looked outside.

“Tam. The program has been going on for six days, today is the last. Every one’s been praying, for you, for Tomi. I...I think we should do this.” Paul walked to him, his voice gentle, as always.

“Want to know what I think? I think I need my daughter to get well. I need to be here. I care about nothing else.” He looked straight at Paul and added with feeling, “I’m not going.”

Paul nodded slowly. He hardly raised his voice but he knew his friend was slipping.
He tried the sarcastic route.

“Ok Tam. So you’re going to stay here and heal Tomi. Go ahead, bro, wave your magic wand. Hope you brought it along?”

Tam flashed him an angry look, his eyes burning. A twitch in his jaw told Paul to tread softly.

“Leave it to Him Tam. Just a few hours, and it could make a difference.” he was pleading now.

Tam shook his head, “Why, why why?” sorrow washed over him, fear gripped his heart at the thought of the unimaginable. He stamped his feet and slammed his fist into the wall, sobbing loudly, his teeth tightly clenched. He cried out in pain as blood stains and little strings of flesh clung to the old rusted nail in the wall.

Tam sat still, his eyes closed, his mind racing, his right hand wrapped in a bandage. The car rolled into Industrial Avenue at about 6pm. They could hear singing from a distance. Paul jumped down and raced into the grounds while the driver honked at the gate. The security guy scrambled to open it.

He searched for Ola who was busy with last minute plans. He found him in the Correspondence office packaging ‘promise scriptures’ for after the service.

“Guy what’s up?” Paul called out from the door.

“Hey! Good. So what happened? Is he here? How’s Tomi?”

“Yep. He’s here.” He shook his head a little. “Well, Tomi is not doing too well.....”

“Jesus, ” Ola remained quiet for a while at the sad news but rallied quickly, “So, you think he’ll be able to do it?”

“Yes. He’s strung tight enough to snap, but,” he held a finger up for emphasis, “I know he’ll do.”

He looked quite skeptical, “But worship?”

“Trust me, he’s broken. It couldn’t be better.”

They made their way backstage where they found Tam leaning on the wall, a lost look in his eyes. He held his bandaged hand gingerly, still feeling the pain. They spoke to him a little not wanting to upset him further. The praise session in the hall rounded up and the MC introduced him. He pushed off from the wall as the people’s applause thundered in his ears, most of them aware of his present challenges. Paul had said they’d been praying. It lifted his spirits some.
It all passed in a haze as the lights on stage stung his eyes and the Mic was passed to him.

What to do now? What to sing?

His well practiced theory of feeling in the mood went right out the windows. This was the last place he would have asked to be.

With his weight on his right leg, his eyes closed and left hand raised, he let himself be.

The song came freely without effort. He meant every word

I have a maker, he formed my heart, oh oh oh before even time began;
my life was in his hands. He knows my name; he knows my every fault, he sees each tear that falls, and he hears me when I call…

Tam wasn’t the only the one weeping now. The ministers in the front row were all prostrate, male and female. Hands were raised all over the hall; the back up singers had ceased speaking the language of men.

He struggled to keep his voice clear as tears welled up inside him. He felt gratitude, deep gratitude to God. It was an unexpected emotion for such a circumstance but his heart was bursting.

Then came the words again like a soft sigh. Like a trickle of water, faint but unmistakable.

Tamilore, what would you have me do for you?

He broke down and wept profusely, the rhythm of his tears reverberated through the hall.

He wanted nothing else, Tomi had to live and be in sound health.

He looked up, his eyes open. He stared at the big clock at the far end of the hall, his eyes unseeing.

8.55 pm

He got on his knees and poured out his heart. He wept like a child, his face contorted with the intensity of emotions whirling inside him.

He became aware of the music that was playing. He picked the sound of the bass guitar, the keyboard, and the drums. They seemed to inspire his next move.

He motioned for the drums to cease. Then he lay prostrate on the fully rugged stage, propped on his elbows. His voice rang out like a gong, clear and distinctive. This song touched him in deep and sensitive places.

Ọba adani ma gba gbe, A sọrọ ma ta se o, Eledumare, Ọba a tori ẹni se.
Ogbe inu wundia sola, ogbe ori ite sogo o, Eledumare Ọba a tori ẹni se

The air stilled as the hall went quiet. Both expected and unexpected miracles preceded the requested.

He prayed for every soul present, his heart truly went out to them. He let go of his own fears and truly became a Levite.

He led three more songs before he felt his work was done.

Walking off, he felt alive again. His friends were waiting for him back stage. They stared at him like zombies, questions in their eyes. He was not smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He was calm and quiet, no words necessary.

Ola wanted to ask “Guy, where have you been?” But he knew exactly where he’d been. Now it was time to go.

They bounded down the stairs of the building and walked to the car. The drive to St. Nicholas was uneventful as everyone kept their thoughts to themselves. Tam stared out the window, his face pressed to the glass, Ola sat in the front while Paul drove.

The night was cold and it had begun to drizzle when they arrived. They cleared at the reception and made for room 69. The door was slightly open, the lyrics of Beauty and the beast sailing through.

“That song.” he thought, sighing deeply. Tomi loved that song so much; she made him play it almost every day.

He pushed open the door to see the occupant of the bed propped up with a couple of pillows, being fed from a little pink bowl by an elderly nurse.

“Daddy.” Tomi called weakly, her smile revealing the wide artificial gap in her teeth.

Paul chuckled behind him, hardly surprised.

Tam shook his head, blinking his eyes, unable to take in the full implication of what he was seeing.

The nurse got up from the bed while Tam approached it.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“You mean, what are we doing? We’re eating of course.” she said smiling and adjusting her glasses.

Tam opened his mouth and shut it just as fast. He eyed the big black bible resting solidly on the bedside table.

“That’s not mine.” He pointed to it.

“Definitely, if it was you’d be 55 years old.” said the delectable nurse.

Paul cracked up again, Ola joined in, though still dazed.

“Well, I thought Tomi might want to listen to some stories, so I read to her.”

‘Yes daddy, Daniel in the lion’s den.” Tomi quipped, her voice sounding high pitched and nasal. Thanks to the tubes running through her nostrils.

“We had a good time.” the nurse continued animatedly, “She was quiet when we started though but after a while, she squeezed my hand. That was when she opened her eyes. Then she said she was hungry. Golden morn.” She said with an exaggerated whisper.

Tam nodded, “Her favourite.”

Tam looked at her with pride in his eyes. He stroked her cheeks, no pain. His chest constricted with the magnitude of the gratitude that filled his heart.

The nurse’s voice sailed through his thoughts.

“We still have her under observation though, and the test will still run. The doctor on night duty will be in soon, no undue excitement please.” She said with her best no-nonsense nurse tone.

Tam nodded.

“It only takes a step.” Ola sighed, his voice hardly a whisper.

They all looked towards the door where He stood leaning on the wall, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Oh boy! Where You dey?” Paul called, waving his hand across his eyes

“Nah, he’s getting inspiration. Big decision this weekend, no?” Tam joked.

Ola laughed and hugged Tam.

“I think you young men need to take it outside. That’s why we made the reception comfortable.” The nurse said looking at them through her glasses.

“Yes ma’am.” they chorused, moving towards the door.

Tam stopped at the door and looked at her as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“I need to know something, at what time did she open her eyes? I mean when exactly did she wake up?”

“8:56” she said, shooing them out the door.

'And the prayer of Faith shall save the sick, and the lord hall raise him up' James 5:15

I believe in Miracles!

Roy

WE WILL BREATHE AGAIN... #UNblast

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 22:26:00 +0000

We fight, maim and kill
We're angry and dismayed

Confused and afraid
We run and hide
And hope we never get to face our demons

But...

Out of the ashes of hate
Out of the flames of destruction
Far away from the fumes ofintolerance

We can rise again
We can shine again.

I believe Nigeria can breathe again.

**********

My heart goes out to all who have been affected in the August 26th bomb blasts in Abuja.

Let hope rise in your hearts.
Justice shall be served and Nigeria will live again.

God bless my Country!

Roy.

Five Men and a Well

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 22:55:00 +0000

Hi people.

Wow, it feels like forever! I haven't posted anything since June! But I've been writing though. Oh yes, I have. I struggled with inertia at some point but I kept right on doing my thing. Thanks to everyone who dropped a line during my Hiatus. God bless you real good.

So I thought to share something from my WIP collection. It's a draft, so if you see an error or inconsistency one too many, bear with me and I hope it's not too long. The title is tentative, I just thought up something for now. Let me know what you think.

Thanks.

**************

“I have made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

I felt drained even as the words left my lips. Never mind that I tried to say it as calmly as possible, they hit him like a thousand bricks and I could see his face darken. His jaw twitched and I felt his rage. I knew he would react like this but there was just no other way. I turned away, fighting to hold on to my resolve. There was no other way.

“Is that all you’re going to say? After everything, just like that, it’s over?!”

His voice had gone up several decibels and I could see his nose flaring. I thought he was gearing up for a fight. He never did take unpleasant news well but this was different... he looked like he was fighting for dear life.

I had lived with Jetur for a long while, two years actually. I do not blame him for my mistakes but, I needed to get a life. I had spent all my energy on men and I was totally spent. There’s got to be more to life than heartache, damaged relationships and emptiness.

I turned to him and looked into his eyes, what I saw scared me. The desperation, the hopelessness, and no evidence of the fight that was all too familiar to me; the battle of flesh against spirit. He wasn’t trying to do the right thing; he was comfortable where we were. He was okay with the falsehood, the lies and emptiness.

In fairness to him, he had wanted to marry me but I had refused. I couldn’t go down that road again, I couldn’t take anymore.

“I’m sorry.” I said, and I meant it. I turned away slowly, painfully, giving myself time to change my mind, to come to my senses. What was I going back to? What will this drastic decision benefit me?

I know the definition of loneliness, the consuming desire to have someone to love, someone to hold on to, even if just for the sake of it. Would I risk going back to that, all for the sake of a life I didn’t yet understand?

I picked up my pitcher from my grandma’s kitchen and headed for the well. The one close to my grandmother’s little house in her village where I was visiting. I had missed her sore, the insane urge to get away and be on my own made me resolve to go visit her.

I had told Jetur it was over between us before I left the city; I guess he followed me here just to be sure I was in my right senses. I hurried to the well hoping he wouldn’t follow. Frankly I wasn’t strong enough for any such drama.

Keeping busy had always helped to clear my head. In a way I felt sorry for myself, what had I gained from the life I had lived? But I wanted to move, whatever it would cost, I just wanted to let go, as long as I could have my life back. The life I had before all these ever began. But come to think of it, did I have a life? I sighed and shook my head to clear the thoughts away. I would focus on the future.

He followed me, talking all the way.

"Look, we can work this out. Let’s just try.” He voice sounded strained and weak. I slowed my pace and looked at him.

“I’m sorry J, but can’t you see where we’re at? We’re nothing. You and I are nothing. Not with each other. This....this thing we have is a farce, it’s a lie and we both know it. We can have full, meaningful lives again. I ...I wish you well.”

I quickened my steps again. Folks were staring. I had been staying with my grandma two whole months; most of them knew me well now.

He threatened, begged, coerced.

I remained silent, fighting the urge to give up my resolve. I thought of the pain, the loneliness, the emptiness. Did I want to go back to that?

I remember when Bani left me; I was just a little over 20. What did I know? I had suffered through the separation, wondering if I’d ever be the same. He rode rough shod over me, taking advantage of my naiveté. My mother didn’t help matters either. She had been eager to marry me off at eighteen. What made her think I could handle such pressure and responsibility at that age I’ll never know. She didn’t take responsibility for my failure at it either, it was my call.

Not long after that, Adna came along and I wisened up. I worked that relationship like it was a business venture. We got married, yes, but the vows were nothing more than empty words, as far as I was concerned. I had learned a golden rule after the first heart break, bury the dead and move on. I modified it to my taste, if it looks dead, or is about to die, bury it anyway. I called the whole thing off when I got tired of playacting.

Then it was Hari. Hari seemed to always be in a hurry. We hurried the relationship, hurried into marriage and hurried out of it. And that was that. I didn’t even shed a tear.

He was still following me. I got to the well, and dropped in my ‘fetcher’, my eyes focused far into the horizon, my thoughts even farther off. I expected to hit water soon, but the fetcher kept falling. I looked into the well. It was dry season and the water level was almost non-existent.

I sighed and leaned on the wall, looking around me, he wasn’t there. I hadn’t even noticed when he turned back. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That was one less thing to deal with. Now it was time to face my life, or better still salvage what was left of it.

I looked back into the well and tried to drag up the fetcher with the little water it had managed to scoop. The effort reminded me of words I haven’t been able to forget. Days ago I had had the most fascinating of encounters. I heard words that had created a burden in my weary heart, a burden that hadn’t worn off. As a matter of fact, I doubt if it’ll ever wane.

“Go call your husband.” I had scoffed at the command from the unlikely stranger who had come to the well in the heat of the day with nothing to draw with. Husband? If only he knew. He had asked for water and I had detected a little arrogance in him. He said he will provide so much water I’ll never have to come to the well again. It all didn't make sense until he asked me to go call my husband. Of course I told him I had none. Could Bani be regarded as my husband? I doubt it. He was ... well, he was what he was but definitely not husband. I had given up on the husband side of things. Not after all I had been through.

"I do not have a husband." I said. Why did I feel like I was being psychoanalyzed? I tried to be defensive, really. It was nobody’s business if I had a man or not. But His eyes, there was something about His eyes. Folk in town had ignored me since I got here. Especially the women and most of the men had kept their distance because of their wives. So why was this man talking to me? I looked him over again. He was nodding now. He didn’t look like he was from these parts, yes, he was indeed a stranger.

He nodded again like he was thinking about my offhanded answer.

“Yes, you’re right. You do not have a husband because you have had five husbands and the man you’re presently with is not your husband.”

I felt like I had been stung. Then I felt like I was awed, elated and confused all at the same time. I talked to him a little more and my resolve just grew. It was no ordinary encounter.

I sighed, filled my pitcher and hauled it all the way home. My grandmother was sitting by the kitchen fire when I returned. I told her everything.

“Everyone who drinks this water shall thirst again...” I said repeating the words the mystery man had said to me to women who had gathered in my grandma’s house later. Shari, the most outspoken of the lot, had asked me again and again what the prophet had told me. He had to be a prophet or someone with some mystic powers or how would he know about my past. She reasoned. And have I really had five husbands? In my short life? How did I manage such drama, she harrumphed.

Murmurs spread amidst the women as they raised eyebrows, and noses at my story. The looks on their faces said they had expected nothing less of a girl like me.

It may have seemed everyone wanted to hear about my chance encounter with this mysterious man but something told me they only came to confirm the things they had heard about my past life.

I took it all in stride.

The next few days had me thinking and rethinking. Did I intend to live forever in my grandma’s? Would I stop trying to live just because I’ve had a few close calls? What would it be like to live free of the burden of guilt and disappointment under which I now groaned?

Maybe I don’t deserve to have a happy and fulfilled life but I want one. I probably have not lived like I had a real purpose but I wanted that to change.

“Whoever drinks of this water will never thirst again” I think of those words again and hope rises within me. Eternal life? What did that even mean? I mulled over the

words again. Whatever it was it sure sounded good.

I found out that my mystery man was still in town. I had told many more people what he had said to me. How he had summed my life up in a few words. They were as astounded as I was….

The End... for now :)

There's more. You're find it in the book, soonish.... *wink*

Roy

Our Lady of the Scarlet Cord.

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 20:44:00 +0000

“You don’t belong here!” the words had stung and shocked her to the very core of her soul. She never imagined that she would be reminded of the sordid past so cruelly and ruthlessly. She gathered her robe about her and pulled down her veil, hoping to hide the shame of the impurity that was obviously still so visible to many.

Would there be no end to the consequence of her actions? Was there really a God that cared enough to wash her clean? Really deliver her from these feelings of unworthiness that threatened to leave her hapless and helpless, never able to receive the love that was being so graciously extended to her?

She picked up her pitcher and returned to the village without water. She walked straight to her house, glad she had cooked supper before leaving for the stream.

Salmon would soon be back and she didn’t want him going hungry because she was sloppy. He would wait patiently, as was his habit, but she hated to take his gentleness for granted.

She bent to pick up a woven fan that lay on the floor when she felt a sharp pain in her back. She straightened slowly, supporting her back with one hand while caressing her bulging abdomen with the other. Was she close? She hoped not. No one was home!

She dragged her swollen feet to the bed and laid down gingerly on it, huffing and panting, her pain magnified by the earlier encounter at the stream. Milzah was not the only woman who had been rude to her. She had lost count. How could they understand? They judged her harshly and deemed her unfit for their society. She was a foreigner wasn’t she?

She sighed deeply, patting her bulging tummy to ease the rapid movements of the little one inside her, obviously itching to be let out. She sang softly to her unborn child as she relaxed further on the creaky bed, hoping to fall asleep quietly.

***********************

Sweat glistened on her forehead as they closed in on her. She ran blindly, wishing to be anywhere but in the middle of nowhere being chased by people she didn’t recognize. She gathered her robe in her hands and kept racing through the darkness. Suddenly she realized her head was exposed. She reached behind her neck to draw up her veil but caught nothing. She could hardly believe it! Her shoulders were bare! What a shame! She looked around her wondering where her veil had fallen. She couldn’t find it, plus her assailants were closing in on her. Unaware of the tree stump in her path, she made to take another step but stumbled over the stump and fell heavily to the ground. Fear clutched at her throat at the thought of what would become of her. She looked up in terror and what did she see? Faces. Faces of men, men and more men. Young men, old men, rich men, poor men, sick and healthy men. They were stretching their hands, reaching for her, mumbling gibberish and searing torment into her soul.

******************

“Rahab! It’s alright, it was just a dream.” She could hear Salmon’s soothing voice beside her, as he pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. She opened her heavy eyelids slowly. She was in her room, lying on her bed with her husband and the midwife hovering over her.

“It is time.” The old woman said, a warm smile spreading across her features. As if on cue, the birth pangs gnawed at Rahab’s mid section sending her into screaming fits.

She bit back the pain and to her own surprise started muttering the prayers she had learned to say. The words came to her, the dreams and visions she had been shown. She had needed more than willpower to live among a people she was not familiar with, to marry one of their sons and now she needed to revisit the promise of the Lord to birth this child of destiny. Every contraction was a confirmation, every push an assurance that her time had come. That the suffering of the past was nothing compared to what was to come. That her stained and filthy garments, crimson and soiled, were to receive the washing of redemption. That the doors to the hallowed place, sanctified and reserved had been opened to her, a misfit, and a foreigner with no rights to claim a connection. She groaned and writhed, every part of her feeling the urgency of the moment. She thought of the chance she had been given, a special opportunity to belong, will she do right by it? Has she done right by it?

What would be said about her conduct among the people whom she now resided? Will she be found worthy to fill such an important place in history, to participate in birthing a new era?

Her tears mixed with her sweat as she heaved a huge sigh. She knew it was signed, sealed and delivered. Her child was born, a link, a prepared means through which the messiah will come, the anointed one. They wrapped him in soft cloths and placed him in her arms. Rahab smiled at the sight of his tiny palm and wrinkled skin. She was ever so grateful to be at this point in her life, to be a part of something greater than herself. She prayed for the strength to live worthy of this call.

Salmon was summoned, and his joy could not be described. He held them both in his arms, the contentment of a father evident in every smile. And with flourish, like one that had waited with assurance for a hope and future, he said, “And his name shall be Boaz!”

Joshua 2, Matthew 1:4-5

To the Children, then and now...

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 27 May 2011 13:32:00 +0000

Its Children’s day and WE, the children are excited! Yay! :)

This BB message below has been circulating since the crack of dawn today.

To all of us who ate Nasco wafers, Okin biscuit, Go-Go and M&K. Who drank Tandi and green sands. Who knew when eleganza biro was sold for less than #1.00 and Pepsi for #1.50. Who did the flex and butterfly dance, watched Cadbury breakfast show and sat anxiously by our TV sets at 4pm for Voltron, defender of the universe. I say, Happy Children’s Day!!! And to those who didn’t enjoy these simple pleasures, please meet me at 6:30pm for tales by moonlight! :) Lol

If you remember these things, then you must have grown up in Nigeria at around the same time I did! LOL. Is it fun to be grown? Or would you rather turn back the hands of the clock?

Well, as much as those times were fun and filled with reckless abandon, life has happened and we’re running with it. In fact we’ve run so fast that some of us now have children of our own!

So, to everyone in my generation (you’re probably wondering how old I am, well, do the math :)) who now has one or two little ones, congratulations and happy Children’s day! Don’t forget to do all you can to partner with God to give your children the best that they truly deserve.

Speaking of which, I am now a proud aunt of a beautiful niece! Yippee!

My sister dropped a sweet little angel last week and it’s her first Children’s day!

Special congratulations to Little 'Sope.

I promise I’ll be a great aunt! :)

Cheers people and Happy Children’s day to all the children of the world!

Roy!

Klorofyl and my 'To Watch' list

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Mon, 09 May 2011 19:16:00 +0000

Hi People.

Trust y'all doing great and the year is shaping up nicely.

I think I'm blocked right now cos I sit up at night and stare at the laptop or chew my pen and can't write a thing.

I have these images in my head but I haven't been able to put them into words.

So I guess I've taken a break.

Anyway, I wanted to share some things with you.

I love the videos below. There're just some fave things I like to watch.

Thought I'd share.

And yes, there's this magazine I came across, by a group of young people.

It's called Klorofyl and it's really great.

"Klorofyl is a literary and graphic art and lifestyle magazine with African, Urban and Christian Influences. It is compiled by a diverse group from 5 African Countries working closely via the internet, specially crafted for the discerning, and offered online."

There's a link down here some where.

You can download it for free.

You'll definitely be impressed.

Plus they're calling for submissions for their next issue.

So if you're interested, check them out.

(Oops I hear submissions close on the 10th of May which is tomorrow.

Try though.)

Enjoy!

TY Bello, The Future

Femi Jacobs, RESPECT

Mayowa Adenrele, Polongo

Why Did I get married? (Stage, One of many parts on Youtube)

(Just found it, I'd only seen the movie. It's Hilarious too)

No comments :)

Click here to download the Go Issue of Klorofyl

Thanks

Roy.

Easter, from the sidelines (Final)

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 23:58:00 +0000

Hi people!

Our Narrator experiences the horror of the Crucifixion.Real and Palpable. The good thing is He didnt just die, He rose again!

********

Tears flushed my face as I looked on. I didn’t know why I cried but I just couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t somebody help him? I watched him struggle under the weight of the wooden cross, the thorns digging into His flesh. I had to walk carefully to shield myself from the blood thirsty crowd. Jews raged in anger, mocking and jeering. They waved angry fists at him just like they had done back at the Palace of the governor. Their voices had risen as one, declaring death and damnation on Him. The whole thing didn’t make sense.

I held on tightly to my slab, gently fingering it as the words flashed across my eyes. HE healed, HE taught. HE cuddled children, hugged and fed the poor.

I struggled to shake off the sentiments. Maybe there was more to this. HE had probably committed another crime, worthy of this grievous punishment. There had to be more to this. Later I would learn that HE had spoken plainly, HE had not tried to justify himself or rail on His accusers before the governor. The Governor had found Him without blame.

I moved along with the frenzied crowd, looking up I saw the crosses. We were at the place of the skull. I knew something had to happen. He had to defend himself. I had come to believe HE had certain powers. HE had to. HE had done things I had never believed was possible. HE would save himself.

I watched as they laid Him on the wood, securing His hands and feet with six inch nails. He cried in agony. My hands shook at the sight of His blood further gushing out. I moved closer, the soldiers were mocking and jesting, I wanted to hush them, to rebuke them and tell them to have some respect. But no, I was rooted to the spot. HE had to save himself.

Jewish folk gathered around the foot of the cross. Most were quiet, wiping tear after tear of genuine grief. Most were women. One of them caught my attention as she groaned in agony. Her body shook tremulously as she kept her gaze locked on Him. Beside her was a young man of simple looks. He held the woman with firm strong hands. He didn't shed a tear but I couldn’t miss the look of utter bewilderment of his handsome face.

Woman behold your son, Son behold your mother!

I drew out my slab and hurriedly scribbled on it, for at that time HE spoke, words that were directed to the woman and young man beside me. I looked up again and found him looking in my direction, the noise and activity around me seemed to fade into the background. Blood ran down His head and into His eyes. HE blinked and the white of His eyes turned red. HE looked back at me and I slowly dropped on my knees.

“Surely this was a righteous MAN.” The words floated to my ears like a gentle breeze. It dropped in my soul like a raindrop on hungry soil. Someone had spoken the very words in my heart. I looked beside me and gasped in awe. The words had been spoken by a Centurion, a commander of a century in the Roman army. Did I dare believe these words were true?

The Centurion who believed

I scribbled hurriedly all that I had heard and seen. Every word HE had spoken His sure words to the condemned thief, His cry of thirst, His plea for forgiveness for those who mishandled him.

I trudged on home when I had heard enough, weighed down by the events I had witnessed. A strange darkness fell as I struggled to make my way home amidst the craziness that the streets had become.

I lay awake the next night, believing I had not seen the end of this story. He had to save himself. Something had to happen. I remembered the story I heard about the blind man who was cured. The Man had put mud in His eyes, and sent him off to Siloam. He came seeing, first with blurred vision then with clarity. Could it be the same now? Maybe things were not as they seemed.

The whole business had affected me so much that I couldn’t eat or have a full night of rest. It became like a puzzle I had to solve. Something just had to give.

My release came the morning of the third day. My brother had been on duty guarding the tomb of The Man. The Jewish leaders had heard rumours about Him coming back to life so they requested for all round patrol. I guess they were preventing any kind of drama that may occur. He rushed in sometime past noon, breathless. I cringed as he narrated his ordeal. I had expected something dramatic but not as extreme as The Man actually rising from His tomb. An angel had appeared and rolled away the heavy stone at the entrance of the cave.

My brother’s pale skin and trembling lower lip told me all I needed to know.

That Man was what HE said HE was!

Up from the grave HE arose!

I just love this song. It captures the Spirit of Easter!

Happy Easter people. Jesus is alive and well, still able to Save, Deliver, Help, Bless, Increase, Heal, Uplift, whatever....

Roy!

Easter, from the sidelines (Part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 17:48:00 +0000

Hi people,

It's Easter again and it's all about Jesus. I don't have my head in the clouds so I know there are folk who don't understand the reason behind it all. I wrote this story from the perspective of someone who had no idea what the fuss was all about. I like to think I've helped her connect the dots which explain the amazing story behind that ultimate sacrifice and the life that we now live.

Please read on, I hope it's not too long. :)

************

I shuffled to my little closet behind the door and pulled out my slab of stone on which I had inscribed my notes. I was keeping tabs.

The first I heard about was the curing of the guy with palsy, a Centurion’s servant who lived in Capernaum. I knew the family because they were close to my uncle but I still couldn’t believe it. Maybe the guy wasn’t really ill.

Then they said HE had cured the mother-in-law of one of His men. I hoped they weren’t planning on a rebellion, ‘cos no threat to the emperor would go unpunished, no matter how flippant. I hoped for His sake HE wasn’t. Not that HE meant that much to me. I just hoped.

The first time I heard of Him was at the fort when I went in to see my uncle. The battalion had prepared to besiege Tyre, but the treaty had been hurriedly signed. Their king had surrendered.

That night there had been discussions about a certain Jew who was causing an uproar. The Jewish leaders had something or the other against him. It had to do with their law. They were such fanatics, the Jews, easy to subdue ‘cos they never agreed on anything.

It was said that HE had powers beyond the ordinary and HE had gathered to Himself a bunch of nobodies to foment trouble. They were teaching some doctrine that was absolutely different from what their leaders approved, healing without proper procedures... hogwash! What did it matter whether there were procedures or not, as long as the sick got well?

I have to admit I still had issues believing that part though. ‘Cos they claimed HE had power over sicknesses and diseases. How was that possible? You did what you could as a physician; the rest was left to, well.....nature?

I sat with my back against the bed, running my fingers over the soft stone. I traced the lines of the inscription about Eunice, the nice little old lady I had met months ago. She had been ill, deathly ill. Something about her monthly cycle that just wouldn’t stop. She was pretty lonely ‘cos no one wanted to be with her. It is ritually unclean to touch someone like me, she had said.

I liked Eunice’s house. It was cute and bore signs of wealthier times. I spent many idle times there, listening to Eunice tell strange things in her weak voice. Frankly, I didn’t believe anything she said, I just liked her company. Then one day she started talking about meeting Him. She said she would be fine if only she met with Him. I tried to dissuade her, even though I was still struggling with believing if those healings were just fables. She was a sweet little old lady, no use setting herself up for disappointment.

I was wrong. She did get healed, ‘cos the next time I knocked on the door she walked up to it to let me in. she had never done that, she always called ‘Come right in!’ from her corner of the house where she always sat.

She went on to tell me about Him and how she had met Him when HE came to town, how she snuck up behind Him to touch His clothes and was instantly cured. She tried to convince me to listen to Him, probably the next time HE came around... I am Roman, I couldn’t do that. Not even with my rebellious, bohemian nature.

That was the day I started writing about these happenings. I wanted to believe it was true, to accept HE was what HE said HE was. But it all flew in the face of what I’d always known.

I got up from the floor, stowed away my slab and headed for the palace of Caiphas. My soldier brother was on duty that night. I met him with some others warming themselves by the fire. The Man had been taken in for questioning.

The palace maid came out carrying jugs of water for the men. She stopped and looked into the face of the bearded man who was at that time rubbing his palms together over the fire. “Aren’t you one of those men that went around town with that Man?”

He shook his head slowly as if uncertain how much to divulge. “No, I’m not.”

He stood up and moved a little distance away. The girl shrugged and kept on serving.

I stooped to talk to my brother. He smiled at me and we talked a little. He wanted me to go on home. It wasn’t safe for a young woman to be out late. I made as if to leave but hung around, waiting. I wondered what they were asking Him in there. How HE cured those people? What HIS powers were? Why HE was so bent on a rebellion?

A firm voice broke the silence around the outer court where we all stood. “Are you not one of those men, one of that Man’s disciples?”

I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me it was the bearded man being questioned again. He shook his head more vigorously this time. “I’m not, you must be mistaken!”

One of the soldiers stood up and walked up to him; he pointed his finger in his face and scowled. “You are! I saw you in the garden with him.” He looked around now, as if talking to everyone. “It is him! He was with the Man. They cut off Marcus’s ears at the garden. I know it’s him! He even speaks like the Man!”

“I said no! I don’t know him. I swear I don’t!”

At that moment the MAN was led out of the palace with four soldiers guarding him. I pushed off from the wall I had been leaning on. HE walked slowly, HE looked tired but there was a glow about Him that sent a hush around the court. Everyone was quiet. HE stopped a while and looked at the bearded man who was now huffing, his chest rising and falling. He looked close to tears at the look on the Man’s face. There was tenderness, and then a certain look as if confirming something.

I looked from one man to the other and I knew the bearded man had lied. These two obviously knew each other.

They led him away in a flurry of activity as soldiers took their place around him. Some folk followed, curious about the unfolding events while others looked on perplexed...

Please, BE GREAT! (Guest Post by Femi Jacobs)

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 20:25:00 +0000

Hi People.

Have you ever given up on a burning desire you had, because well, you had to pay the bills and a ‘normal’ job just seemed the most rational way to go?

Well, been thinking about this for a while and every time I have something pressing on my mind, I just find some insight.

This time it came in the form of an article I found by Femi Jacobs of InspireU. It really hit the spot, and of course got me thinking. I’d like to share. Here goes.

*************

As I sat in my ride from the airport on a recent trip, I remembered the previous trip and the cab driver that picked me up. He was evenly toned and bulky. It was not his build that impressed me, but his mind. We spoke on the long drive and he fascinated me as he spoke about the dreams that brought him to the UK many years before.

My heart bled as I listened to the things he did not say.

All over the world you meet men and women who have sacrificed their quest for greatness at the altar of necessity. After you have tried for a while and you meet bumps in the road, you sort of think 'what the heck'. But remember, you were born for the rising of many, and your giving up would be to them a callous tragedy.

So if only just for the souls you were born to lift up, please, please BE GREAT.

Femi Jacobs

I have said it several times, if you do not find a reason other than you, success may seem like drudgery and it would be a burden you would easily offload.

Men were created in God's image and likeness and no matter how far we have walked away from EDEN, we do not lose that element of chivalry, a chip off of God's very soul. We have the bell of eternity ringing in our souls' ears and it could be deafening. Yes, we have tried to kill it, to snuff out this light of greatness burning like an undying ember at the base of our souls. We point fingers at the government, and blame the ills we see on others.

We feel it when we drive on the roads and see homeless people and hear the sound of other people's pains and misery. All of us do. We feel that kinship and connection to others and their lives concern us just a bit. You see people shift uneasily at such sights and sometimes it could so compelling that we try to change the topic because it is unbearable.

Why don't we let go, let the tears fall for the pains in the world?

Innocent children born into pain and suffering, cancer patients and other victims of incurable, painful diseases. We ask what we are supposed to do about it. Yet yielding and allowing ourselves to care is what introduces us to powers and creativities beyond the ordinary senses.

Yes, we feel the pain of others BECAUSE WE ARE gods! Yes we were born to be gods. Not to play it, but to be it. We are all son s of the great GOD and no matter what we feel about Him, we cannot shake off His genes embedded in our souls. He burned His image into our bellies and it forces us to feel like Him and think like Him many times than we care to admit.

Unleashing this force of greatness is the key to the happiness that we so crave sometimes. We can numb it, we can dull it, but we cannot kill it.

So what is it you care so deeply about? You care because you CAN fix it!

I hear you say, What! Ridiculous, isn't it? Yes, but miraculous too. If you wait on the feeling and let it take you over, God will visit you in the night and birth the answer in your soul. I dare you to try this. He is attracted to souls that care about His world.

How did we get here? We got here by selfishness. It consumes this world and burns us all. We cannot escape the pains and misery it has unleashed on the world.

What we want to accomplish is not as great as why we want to accomplish them. If the reason does not exceed the confines of our own personal comfort, it is likely we will yield to the temptation to give up and call it quits after a few attempts. If it means a lot to others, and lifts up the world, it will become a dream God sponsors and it will bring untold happiness and peace to our souls.

My challenge is simple, please be great. Do not give up on the things you care about. Do not abandon ship, think of those people who wait in the wings, whose pains you could help soothe, and whose tears you could wipe away.

If Mandela was just thinking about his own comfort, he would have negotiated and got a position in the apartheid government, lived in comfort and relative peace and taken care of his family and close friends. But he would have left a whole nation in darkness, and many more would have died. Reading his memoirs, his chivalry sustained him in the bleak hours of sacrifice, when it became too hard to go on. Now, in a continent filled with misery, his nation stands tall as a beacon of hope and his legacy shines brilliantly in the minds of billions.

Please, BE GREAT! We are Free to FLY!

P.S. Check out Femi's newest video here http://vimeo.com/21875437

**************

There. You heard it.

So do you really want to be great? As in really great?

I guess that's back to those Grand Dreams, right?

Roy.

From The Sidelines: My e-book

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 16:01:00 +0000

Hi guys!

I’ve been writing Bible retellings for a short while. I obviously haven’t written enough but there’s more where they came from. By His Grace!

So I compiled all my pieces and decided to share them with my friends. I have most of them on this blog and others on Facebook and Naijastories. But you can get them all in one place now.

I wrote my first retelling in 2009. It came to me while I was at work and I scribbled it in my pad. It was just an idea that popped up when I thought of the parting of the Red Sea. I titled it Exodus: through the eyes of a dumb boy.

I do not remove from the bible accounts, neither do I add to them. I only use my imagination and for a while put myself in the shoes of the not-in-the-headlines bible characters to experience what they felt or encountered. The main characters in my stories are usually the ones you never gave thought to, hence the Title; From the Sidelines.

I trust that you will see a few things in the lives of these people that will spur you on, either to follow their footsteps or escape their mistakes.

Please click on the image on the top right corner of this page or HERE to download the collection from Scribd.com. You may be asked to sign in with your Facebook account or to signup. Please be patient, it will only take a while.

I hope to expand on this effort very ‘soonish’, so your thoughts and observations are highly welcome. To send me a private message, please mail me at leroy7.18@gmail.com.

Thanks a-plenty.

Yours truly,

Roy

*wink, wink*

One Lovely Blog Award!!!

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 16:24:00 +0000

Hi people! So I got the One Lovely Blog award! *wink!

Thanks to Vyvyka for bringing it down here.

This is how it works:
Link back to the blogger that tagged you, say Seven things about yourself, and then tag fifteen other bloggers you have have recently discovered.

So here goes,

I love the good life. Totally, I dream of posh houses, nice cars, exotic vacations, the whole nine yards!

Apart from plantain, something else I love eating is liver! Yes liver. Boiled, grilled, fried, whatever, I just love liver. Did you know it’s a ready source of energy related nutrients? Try a meal of liver, liver and liver today *wink

I used to think I was a diehard romantic, now I’m not so sure. But one thing I like to witness is two people genuinely start on a journey of love. Seriously, you don’t want to know how many matchmaking sessions I have tried to initiate. *wink

I don’t like discussing petty issues. Sue me; I like to get straight to the point, most times.

In my dreams, I’m married to a very rich man who provides all my needs so I don’t need to work and can devote all my time to writing, writing and writing. Sigh...

I can watch a film or read a book a gazillion times, especially if I really dig it. e.g. Tyler Perry’s Why did I get married, one and ‘Too’ and my favourite Heartsong Presents....
I want my life to count. I don’t want to just live, write a few books and die. I want to leave a legacy. I want to help people as much as I can, encourage and nurture other destinies alongside my own. I want to keep sailing my vessel till the river runs dry [some people don't get it when I say this :( ] So help me God!

I hereby tag these blogs I have recently stumbled on. You guys totally rock!

cyruswoman

Vyvyka

the corner shop

NittyGritty

Gospelgirl

drjemmy

heartflows

Ope

loudthots

amazingtots

sunosphere

struggling christian

iwalewa

loveup

faithimagined

Roy.

Bez: The master craftsman!

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 10:46:00 +0000

I live in Lagos, and on this day I was going through a certain neighbourhood and I found a signage. It obviously belonged to a boutique or dressmakers shop. On it was written in bold black letters ‘BEZALEEL STITCHES.’ I was awed, because I had only come across that name a few times, in the bible. So I thought whoever owned that shop must have caught a revelation! lol

I wrote this short piece on that bible guy, Bezaleel. And I dedicate it to everyone who has had to struggle to find their place in the scheme of things. If you’ve ever had sleepless nights wondering, praying about what you would do to be relevant, to be remembered, to help others and also earn a respectable income, this is for you.

********

Bez walked out of the little tent he shared with his wife and seven year old son, looked into the starlit sky and sighed with pleasure. He breathed in a lungful of clean mountain air, relishing his new found freedom. It was a heady feeling. The stress and strain of the construction site was now in the past, the whips and torture, the pain and anguish. He pushed aside the thoughts that had pummeled him for years as he groaned under the heavy hand of the Egyptian king. The fact that many like him bore the same burden had done nothing to comfort him. He always believed there just had to be more to life.

He remembered growing up hearing stories of the Patriarch and his ground breaking faith. What would he have done if Jael hadn’t had their little Bez after two years of marriage? He sure would’ve lost his mind. He’d always wanted a mini Bez since he was a teenager. His own mother had had four Children after him. He’d grown up caring for them the best he could.

“This is freedom!” he said, loving the calm in the air. His tent was close to the leader’s. He had been grateful for the positioning; now he knew why.

He could see him now, his slow sure steps leading up the mountain. Bez had grown up with only with a faint feeling of connection to the I AM, as the leader had proclaimed Him to be when he came to demand their release from the shackles of oppression.

Many things were not yet clear to him but he knew he felt such strong allegiance and reverence for this unseen God who had turned the tides of nature to rescue a people long forgotten, in a land they couldn’t claim as theirs. What could be more awesome? Bez had seen things in this few months he’d never seen in his entire life of struggle. Amazing, awe inspiring wonders. He had a good feeling this was just the beginning.

The next few days the leader was not to be seen around camp. He had been up Sinai for a long time now and the clouds were still hovering like a cloak over the imposing mountain. If the rumble in the heavens was anything to go by, something big was about to happen, he thought.

People had started to grow weary around the camp, with nothing to do but Bez spent his time doing what he loved most, working with wood.

Little Bez loved walking around with him, gathering bits of wood and turning them into delightful shapes. He only wished he had been allowed to carve back in Ramses. But there were better craftsmen, more skilled and endowed than he was. He had had to settle for hauling bricks and making straw.

A month later, after many strange and fearful things had happened among the people, the leader called a meeting where he laid out several instructions he had received from the I AM. Bez had never heard so many instructions in his life. There was to be a tent, a ‘tent of meeting’. What was that? This would be constructed with several hallowed objects in it for worship and...well, he couldn’t understand most of it. But the excitement he felt at the thought of constructing something was amazing. Would he be allowed to work? To carve? He hoped to heaven he would.

As he mulled the thoughts in his mind, trying to envision the possibilities in his mind’s eye, he heard something that almost made him jump out of his skin! Had his name been called?

“Yes,” the leader repeated, “The Lord has selected Bezaleel, the son of Uri, grandson of Hur. He has filled him with the Spirit of God with skill, ability, and know-how for making all sorts of things, to design and work in gold, silver and bronze, to carve stones and set them, to carve wood, working in every kind of skilled craft. He has also made him a teacher, he and Oholiab. He has also gifted them with the know-how needed for carving designing, weaving, and embroidering in blue, purple and scarlet fabrics and in fine linen. They can make anything and design anything!”

Who was he talking about, him? Bez’s head felt ten times its normal size! Had he heard right? He, Bez? Carve in gold, silver, stone, and...and bronze? He had only ever worked with wood all his life!

Lord!

He got up from the slab of stone he had perched on and paced the ground. He stripped off his outer tunic, the mountain air all of a sudden felt a little too hot for him. His mind raced at the thoughts running wildly in his head.

Had he heard him say he could weave and embroider? That he could design and make anything?! For real?

He sat right back and calmed himself but was soon on his feet again. It was true! Right now, he felt like he could do anything! Yoo-hoo! He couldn’t wait to start!

*******

That was indeed the beginning of a life long career for Bez. He met his friend OH. With whom he had the pleasure of working, learning and producing such quality of work that had never before been seen.

Where are those Egyptian lords now? He could teach them a thing or two. J

Many people sure feel him now!

Do check him out @ Exodus 35: 30-35. I recommend the Message Bible version.

Roy.

The Family Planner

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 17:19:00 +0000

Have you ever had to take a job you absolutely hated but had to do because of money issues? Or probably the money was good and it was a motivation to do the ~~darn~~ job anyway?

I heard someone say that he could do any job at all, even if he hated it, as long as the money was good. Now I’m not talking about illegal stuff here. Just the good old, ‘I don’t like marketing but I’ll do it if the pay is good’ situation. I know a lot of Naija folks are conversant with this dilemma, and we have grown a thick skin where it is concerned but still, e no easy o.

I got to thinking about it and this little story came to me.

It’s totally Fiction, so any similarities with real life situations are purely coincidental.

And please bear with me, it’s kinda long.

Enjoy!

******************

I walked out of the room about thirty minutes after I heard the door open. My wife must have come in with her keys. I was enjoying my pre-night relaxation so much I had drifted off to sleep again. I woke with a start worried that she hadn’t come into the room to check on me.

I found her on the sofa closest to the main entrance of our ground floor apartment, totally knocked out, her bag was on the floor beside her, her heeled shoes were still on her feet, her mouth was slightly open and she was snoring lightly. Her arms hung loosely over the chair.

I looked her over shaking my head in mild anger. Why did she have to go through this?

“Honey.” I cooed. She stirred a little, uttered some gibberish and fell back into sleep. “Honey, get up. You need to undress at least.” I caressed her cheek with the back of my fingers.

“Hmmm, what… where am I?” she scrambled up, looking around. She instantly relaxed when she saw me. “Ha darling, have you had dinner? I’m sorry, I’m just so tired.”

“Yes Hon, I warmed up the food you packed in the freezer. Come, let’s go inside.”

I carried her bag and pulled her along. She sat on the bed in the room, waited a little while and fell back, landing on the bed with a thud. I smiled and shook my head. This was getting too much for her.

I knelt on one knee and proceeded to free her of the stiletto-like heels. The move reminded me of three years ago when I took the same position, only then she was giggling shyly not half asleep, drugged tired by meaningless work. I helped her undress and get ready for bed.

She mumbled a thank you and was about to drift off for the night.

“You’re quitting that job. And I mean it.” I didn’t know where the thought came from. I just knew I had to say it. She bolted up on the bed and looked me straight in the eyes; all thoughts of sleep vanished instantly. She swallowed noisily but didn’t say a word.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I half expected her to protest and beg me to have a rethink; after all we've had this talk before. She simply shook her head and shrugged.

I turned my back to her and pulled the bedcovers over my head, “Settled then, good night.”

“You can’t make me do that.” her voice was so small, I barely heard her, “I won’t sit at home and do nothing.”

“I haven’t asked you to sit and do nothing. But I won’t let you work your fingers to the bone for a lousy job that pays you less than you need to survive for one week!” I tried to control my voice.

“Look. I know it’s not much but do I have a choice?”

“Yes, you do, Tina, you have plenty choices.”

“Like what?”

“You could start a business…”

“You know I’m not the business type, I wouldn’t know what to do!”

“You always say that but you haven’t tried. You haven’t tried anything else but work for a company that doesn’t not care about your welfare. Tell me, has the HMO thing been settled?”

“Well, they’ve had some issues with the health insurance company….”

“What happens if you’re to put to bed tomorrow, they don’t have you on insurance and we get to pay out of pocket?” Wrong example, I thought, as I looked at her. She’s been talking about babies for a while now and frankly I’m not ready. I hoped she was still on the pill.

She was sulking now. I had to look for a quick diversion.

“Ok, how many leave days do you get in a year? 10 days, just 10 days in a whole year! You’re a graduate for heaven’s sake!”

“Well, will you get me another job?” she shot back. That caught me unawares.

“I…I’m looking out. I gave your CV to a couple of people. They should…..”

“How many people, if I may ask?” she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, watching my every move.

“Look that’s not the point. The point is you’re expending too much energy on a job that gives you next to nothing. It’s not a good deal o.”

I sat up and leaned against the head board. She rubbed her palms across her face and sighed. She shook her legs rhythmically and I knew I had upset her sore. But I had to get it in her head. We could survive on my income, I thought if we spend well.

Without another word, she laid back and pulled the covers over her head.

I woke up to find a note beside the bed; she had gone off to work. I yawned loudly and stretched with pleasure. It was the third day of my annual leave and I planned to relax fully. I picked up the note and read…

Sweetest heart,

I was really hurt yesterday by the way you spoke to me. You spoke as if I’m just being stubborn and uncooperative. It’s just that I believe things will get better and I just have to pay my dues. I’m getting some experience at least. Anyway, we’ll talk more over the weekend, not tonight please.

There’s boiled yam in the kitchen, you can take it with fried eggs or the peppered stew in the freezer. Have a great day, and don’t enjoy too much without me. :)

I smiled, folded the note neatly and placed it back. Sure thing, boiled yam sat on the stove waiting. I warmed it up and fried an egg. I was about to settle down to breakfast when my phone rang.

“Hello,” I breathed into the phone wondering who was interrupting my well planned morning.

“Hey, Fola. What’s up? Started your leave?” It was James. Why wasn’t he using his phone?

“J-boy, yes o, I have. How’s your end?”

“I’m on the Island with my brother in-law. I had some things to clear up. Anyways was just calling to tell you I won’t be available for the system check tomorrow.”

System check? My mind raced. Oh! I totally forgot. I had promised to check out the mail server James just purchased for his business. Thank God he had cancelled.

“Oh, no problems at all, some other time then.”

“Thanks man.”

“So, you’re with your brother in law eh? The immigration guy?”

James’s brother in law, Chima, was Deputy Comptroller of the Nigerian Immigration.

“Yes, in fact. They’re preparing for a mass inspection of some corporate facilities, especially manufacturing outfits.”

“Really? Why?” I was curious.

“Oh well, there’s word that some of them are operating with illegal documents.”

“Oh, ok”

“Yes, and they’re doing it in concert with FIRS, you know tax issues are also involved. Most of these companies are owned by foreigners and some don’t have the required papers that authorize them to operate.”

“Wow, that’s big. But seriously James, I usually am of the opinion that our authorities are not sincere, they probably get something from these guys and let them off easy.”

“Well, I doubt that will happen this time. I’m going with them though. Some adventure.”

“Really?” What about his work?

“I’m hoping to get some business from them so I wanna stay on their radar screen.”

“Oh! That explains a lot. Hmmm, guy na wa for you. Anyways have fun.” I was about to sign off when a thought struck me. “Come to think of it, Tina works for a manufacturing firm o. And it’s owned by some foreigners.”

“Really? Which one?” I told him the name. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I could ask though, if it’s on the list. Anyways bros, I gat to go. Enjoy your leave. I’ll swing around to say hi.”

I thought long and hard about it when James hung up. Could Tina’s company be one of them? If it is, then that’s the last bundle of straw and the camel’s back is shattered. I’ll just wait and see.

I took the rest of the afternoon to go through my budget, stock earnings and financial health generally. It wasn’t looking good. The stocks no longer made sense. The recent cuts in my income had just dawned on me. I pushed the papers aside and signed. Did I really think we could survive on my income? Maybe for a while but if things didn’t improve, I’ll soon be groping in the dark. I didn’t think we should start a family just yet. We’re young and I want the best life for my kids when they finally arrive, not this here today, gone tomorrow unstable financial life.

Tina came home at 7pm, earlier than usual. She seemed to have lot on her mind. She shuffled around the house mumbling to herself, I stayed out of her way until I could no longer take it.

I grabbed her shoulders as she walked past me, taking some clothes to the washer.

“Hey, babes, what’s eating you up?”

She stopped and looked at me blankly. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you sure?” I wasn’t convinced.

“It’s just, you may be right.” She shrugged. “I may have to quit the job anyhow.”

I hoped she didn’t see the look of triumph in my eyes. When I spoke, I tried to sound only mildly interested.

“Hmm, hmm. So, what happened?”

“FIRS, Immigration! That’s what happened!” she shot back, shaking visibly.

“Hey, relax Hon. Come, sit.” I led her to the sofa. She sat heavily and turned to me.

“The company came under fire today o. Immigration and FIRS guys came snooping. And they found everything.” She slapped her palms on her tights with so much force, I winced.

“Like what?” I asked. She shook her head, sniffed and pinched her nose.

“Everything! They have not been paying taxes; they don’t even have the right papers. And the authorities also found about our peculiar working conditions, you know. I don’t know where all these will end now.” She wrung her hands, clearly exasperated. I didn’t quite get what she was talking about.

“Unusual working conditions? Help me here. I don’t get.”

She shrugged, trying to make light of the issue, “You know, locking the gates when workers arrive, no gas mask or boots for the factory workers and paying a paltry sum to injured workers before letting them off.” If she was trying to play down the severity of the situation, she was doing a bad job of it. I was appalled. How come I never got wind of this before? And how come nobody ever reported such issues?

I leaned back on the chair and took it all in. Those guys must be put under serious fire; they shouldn’t be allowed to operate at all if they couldn’t abide by the laws. I turned to look at Tina who was now lost in thought, her chin in her palm, a faraway look in her eyes. I wondered what she was thinking about. I pulled her close and she leaned into me. She was leaving that place and that was final.

“Why, Tina? Why do you hold on to this job? You get to do more than you’re paid for. HR/Admin and Finance assistant? Whoever heard of such burden in the name of work? You deserve more than what you’re getting babe.”

She sighed and blew a shaky breath. A lone tear rolled down her plump cheeks. I put my arms around her and wiped her tears.

She shouldn’t have had to go through all this. I felt like I had failed her. Like I should have done more to protect and provide for her. Were those not the words I vowed on our wedding day, the same I had whispered to her at those moments? Where had I gone wrong? I’m responsible for her. I had better step up my game.

I chided myself.

The next morning, Tina wanted to go back to the office to pack up her things and see what had happened after the disruption of work the day before.

Indeed a lot had happened. The ministry of environment had also visited. The offence was improper disposal of factory waste. The owners had created a drainage that dumps untreated waste water directly into the canal that runs into the lagoon. Now this is a prime offence as far as the state government was concerned, no way around it, the factory had to be closed down.

I was amazed at the turn of events when she ‘gisted’ me these issues later that evening.

“Really? So what happens now?” I asked, astonished. I hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

She shrugged. ”I wouldn’t know. All I know is they’re going to be out of business for quite a while, if they ever get out of this. I must confess this is different. The other times when the FIRS and Immigration came snooping. They went into the MD’s office frowning and came out smiling and that was that.”

“Wow. It’s certainly waterloo now.”

“Yes, it is. It really is.”

She fell silent. I knew what she was thinking. She looked at her fingers and twisted them around. What to do now? I cleared my throat and shifted on the seat.

“Tina...”

“Hmmm?”

“Look at me, please.” I lifted her chin with my finger, her eyes met mine. “We will not lack anything as long as it is within my power. We’ll be alright and it won’t be long, we’ll get you started on something better. Please, just bear with me on this.”

She looked into my eyes, deep way down into my soul like she was searching for something. Then she nodded and placed her head on my chest. I sighed deeply and stroked her hair. My mind raced as thoughts chased each other around. I grabbed blindly at them and forced them into a queue. First things first. I’ll speak to Femi, my friend at People prime. Who knows, there may be some vacancies somewhere. Then we’ll explore the possibility of Tina starting a business. I just have to convince her to give it a try. I married a workhorse, I’m sure she’ll put her all into it. I also need to look into the possibility of doing something else myself. My ever dependable job is actually looking less inviting now, what with the pay cuts and all.

I sighed. Sufficient for today are these troubles that surround us. Tomorrow comes early and I’m hoping hope rises with it.

One week later, I stepped into my house, tired and a little confused. All the avenues are looking bleak. No vacancies yet, it had just been a week but I couldn’t wait to get something going for Tina. I hated to see her just sit home all day, cooking and cleaning. If she doesn’t like it, I don’t like it either.

I sniffed, my nose in the air. Something smelled great.

“Honey? I’m here. What’s cooking?”

She sashayed into the living room, all smiles. I took in the scent of her as she did a little dance, drew close and put her arms around my neck.

“How was your day, darling?” her eyes danced around my face, taking in every detail. I answered her question with a long sweet kiss. Her smile widened when we come up for air.

I couldn’t wait to be let in on the secret to her bubbly disposition.

“What’s the good news? Please, tell me, I can take it. In fact, after all the stress of today, I could do with some good news.”

“Well, you’ll have to take a wild guess.” She teased. I looked up to the ceiling, my finger on my chin.

“Bingo! You got a job!” What else could make her so excited? She cracked up at my enthusiastic answer. I like the sound of her laughter. The stress of the daily grind almost robbed us of such moments.

“Nooo,” she rested her hands on my chest, and I put my arms around her waist. “But before I tell you, I want to say that, Darling I believe everything will be fine with us. You know financially and in every way. We just have to keep trying. Hmmm, ok?”

I nodded, with a comical ‘get to the point’ look on my face.

She smiled and shifted on one foot. She licked her lips and looked deep into my eyes,

“Darling, I’m pregnant.”

Oh My God! No!

The look of utter shock on my face must have confused her. I was about to ask ‘what happened to the pill?’ when I smelt burning food. I scrunched my nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The stew!” she shrieked and hurried into the kitchen.

Grateful for the distraction, I took the next few minutes to regain my balance, whatever happened to my well laid plans?

I should be happy but frankly, I just want to faint.

End

Hmmm, You feel Tina?

Roy.

Interview With Pat-Uwaje King of Mid-Night Crew

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 12:57:00 +0000

Hi Guys,

Here's someone I'd love you to 'really' meet.

She’s a young general, doing kingdom business the best way she knows how, and excelling at it.

I saw her on TV and I was enthralled. I’ve always known she was on that sensational Gospel group that I love sooo much but still....

So this music video came on screen and I heard this strong captivating voice. It was Pat. I knew I wanted to talk to her. You’ll find her humble, passionate, compassionate, strong, feminine, spiritual and ...well, see for yourself.

We’d like to know a little more about Pat-Uwaje King...

I am my parents’ first daughter and the fourth of seven children. I hail from Delta state, although I was born and bred in Ibadan, Oyo state, where I had my primary and some of my secondary education. I completed my secondary school in Lagos and I am a graduate of Creative Arts from The University of Lagos by God’s grace.

Have you always known that music will be such an important aspect of your life?

I come from a family where we eat, drink and dream music. My mother is a wonderful vocalist and most of my siblings either sing or have a good ear for music. I have always been very musically inclined and I served in church and campus choirs when I was much younger. Somehow, I knew my life was about music and that music would be a major part of me. My husband is also a good guitarist and music teacher and our 2 year old is hastily following in those steps. Its exciting!

What’s the best thing about being a member of The Mid Night Crew?

The privilege to worship God together with like-minded people and putting His praise on the lips of everyone-young and old, Africans and Non-Africans, black, white and grey. This for me is definitely the best thing about being a part of the Midnight Crew. Being a group, we have had to learn to be good team players, Understanding and drawing strength from each other and as the scripture says “One shall chase a thousand, two, ten thousand,” can you imagine how many the four of us will chase?

There is definitely strength and power in our togetherness and God’s grace has always been more than sufficient for us. We do have our challenges and differences but that’s what makes the group very unique.

We come from different physical and spiritual backgrounds and the people that love us all do, for different reasons. Michael is the swagger-man and the fuji crooner, Odunayo is our performer and dance queen, Gbenga is a bit reserved on stage but he brings God’s presence down in awesome worship and I just draw a bit from each of them and take the lead in vocals for some of our songs. We are so blessed by God. Our hit track, IGWE is being sung all over the world even by Non-Nigerians, it’s very humbling.

We pray to never take God’s anointing that makes the difference in our lives and ministry for granted.

You strike me as a strong, determined and disciplined woman. Do the many roles you fill as a wife, mother, etc affect this? What does your feminity mean to you?

Strength is a gift from God; I bless Him daily for it. Discipline and determination are my watchwords. I have always been very determined. I am a go-getter and I like to make things happen around me. I try to be very focused and reasonable in my decision making and the way I comport myself.

God has to be proud of us, His children, always and when a lot of people look up to you, you cannot afford to let them down, so discipline is very important to me. Also, being a wife and mother is a great responsibility and all those add to those characters definitely. Some people attribute weakness to feminity but I think feminity is subtle strength. Women are God’s gifts to life itself. A good woman makes a difference in any household. We are naturally very good at multi-tasking. We can do a million things at a go and still hold it together. Naturally a woman nurtures and cares instinctively, looks out for her husband, kids and not just her own family but her husband’s as well. Show me a very successful man, and I will look around and show you an excellent wife who holds his hands and helps to strengthen his feeble knees when he gets weary! Womanhood is a blessing!

How does your faith come to bear on your everyday life?

I love God and I see His hands of love and favour in my life daily. If I start to tell you some of my testimonies, I will write a book. I cannot say I have attained, but like everyone else, I strive towards perfection and try to live a pleasing life unto God. I sometimes make mistakes and do silly things, but every chance I get; I try to do things that I know will make God happy. I love to learn from people no matter how young or old they are and I always ask God to humble me so that I don’t ever become too big for him to use. His mercies have kept me and I pray never to disappoint Him.

Was there ever a time in your life when you weren’t sure what you wanted to be or do in life? How did you handle that?

Like most people, yes! But that was only because most of our African parents and society always want us to be a doctor or a lawyer, accountant or an engineer etc, and anything else outside those really does not make sense to them.

I, on the other hand knew very well that none of those was for me. It was a lot of struggle to define my own path and follow it, but when you follow God’s will, everything falls in place and that was what I did. I have no regrets whatsoever. I have peace and happiness and above all I feel very fulfilled. I have never wished for any other career or ministry.

Apart from singing, what other strong passions do you possess?

I love to teach music. I hope to begin doing that more on a big scale in the very near future, so everyone should watch this space. I also take delight in giving-My time, love, energy, resources to those who need it.

What would you do if you had all the resources in the world at your disposal?

I will build houses where poor people can find shelter, different multipurpose centres where creative activities can take place, shopping malls that would have presence all over the country, recreational grounds for both young and old. I will feed the poor, and use every opportunity to tell as many people as I can about Christ’s second coming.

***

There you have it. Ain't she amazing?

Also, See Pat's Stint on Lara George's Video, Halleluyah

God bless you Pat, as you keep walking your destiny path and God bless Mid-night crew!

Roy.

Stylish and Versatile Blog Awards

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 16:15:00 +0000

Okay. I have been tagged in the Stylish and Versatile blog award. Thanks to Jaycee for bringing the lamp down here. God bless you dear, your light shines and I see it.
This is kinda late but better late than never right?

So down to it, I’m supposed to say seven things about myself and tag fifteen other bloggers.

Here goes.

1. I love the low profile kinda life. Yes o, I do. I’m a very private person and I hardly like to have my
business out there. So doing this is kinda out of the norm for me but hey... there’s always a first time.

2. I’m strong willed but almost never confrontational. I hate to argue ‘cos I feel it’s the stuff ~~misyarnings~~ are made of. Let him that readeth understand. Lol :). I think deeply before making a decision and you’ll be hard pressed to talk me out of it. So just in case you’re trying to get me to do something, tell it to me early :)

3. Plantain is my bestest food. I like to think someone was frying it behind my mother’s ward in Ayinke hall where I was born. I can eat it all day, every day. I’m stuck and loving it.

4.I practically grew up in one whole year. NYSC. I suddenly had to live alone and manage my own money (as meager as it was). It was a great experience finding myself and I won’t trade it for anything.

5. I love the good life. I love the simple life. I hate undue complications. I love to curl up in bed with a good book, a cup of something nice and plenty pillows to sink into.

6. I grew up wanting to be a gynaecologist. I was convinced I would shock the world. A video of a bloody medical procedure cured me of that. Sadly.

7. I looove God. He’s just so good to me. I fall and stumble but he’s always there to hold me. Through those days when I could hardly raise my head, he was my knight, my hero. Sigh... I just can’t get past that.

Well, enough about me.

Here’s to the bloggers that have touched me deeply one way or another. I know y’all have been tagged but I’ll just list you sha. :)

Myne Whitman
Tee

Finally! I get to use this picture I've been saving :) *wink

Reflections on the Christ

The Struggling Christian

Fred

Oma

Addy Bardust

And many more.......

God bless you all!

Roy.

I Am Seduction!

noreply@blogger.com (RemiRoy) — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 15:38:00 +0000

She smiled derisively at his retreating back, fighting the urge to shoo him out the door. She pitied his familiar tired gait now. Gone were the days when his touch made her skin tingle, when the sound of his voice was enough to get her in the mood. Now all that was left was an empty shell.

Humph!

She got up from the bed and sashayed to the large, full length mirror. Turning this way and that, she loved that she still felt alive. Hmm, nothing had changed much. She ran her hands over her midsection. Her abs was still flat, her breasts full and youthful, her back, still a head turner.

She reached for her rouge and pursed her lips, daubing a few layers to create that sensuous look she always could pull without effort. Her long, black, effortlessly silken hair did not need attention. She batted her eyelids at her own reflection.

She was pleased.

“Shivar!” She called, swaying around the room. The little brat was nowhere to be found.

Oh, she had to choose the right dress and it had to be able to stir a man’s blood! She remembered the one her husband loved to see her in.

Aha! That silky red and black number should work.

She threw open her dresser and scanned the line for it. She found it easily and pulled it out with a flourish. Sighing with heady pleasure, she held it close. She could picture it now, the passion, and the heat. Hmmm, she breathed in the scent of the sleek piece. It’d been a long time coming.

A long, hot bath will work wonders for her frayed nerves. She made a mental note not to let herself be aggravated that way again. Husband could work all day, all week and all year if he wanted, plan B had come to stay! She could see him in her mind’s eye. The rippling muscles, the warm flesh, hmmm....

It was midday and the plan was hatched. Shivar and the servant boys had been sent off. She sat on the reclining couch in her chambers, beside the fireplace, waiting for the object of her desire.

She had given him an assignment, clothing to be delivered to her quarters.

He came in just in time, walking with that majestic gait that made her head swoon. Such confidence, such grace, ah! such beauty. He could be king if he wanted to, king of her castle! She smiled sweetly even as the thoughts of his earlier resistance crossed her mind. Ha! He sure won’t be able to resist her today. Not with all her charm and sensuousness turned on full heat!

She didn’t lose a beat even as she recollected his words the last time. His gaze had been set, the rigid lines on his mouth fixed.

“I respect my boss, in all sincerity. He’s been open with me in everything, but not where you’re concerned. I cannot do this and disappoint my God!”

Rubbish! She almost believed the blasted Hebrew! He seemed truly immune, but he wasn’t. He isn’t. She’ll prove him wrong today! She was prepared.

She smoothened her dress and reclined further on the couch, her sweetest smile playing on her lips.

“The materials ma’am, you sent for them.” He bowed slightly, placing the fabrics on the carved wooden stool next to her couch.

“Yes, I did thank you.” she hoisted her back up from the couch and looked up at him, “you will stay a little while longer?”

He straightened and looked at her, his expression darkening. “Is there anything else you want me to do for you?”

She got up in a flash and reached for his hands, wrapping them around her she clung to him, a handful of his cloak in her grip, her breath fanning his face.

“Yes! Sleep with me!”

His reflexes were sharp. He raised both arms in one beat and pushed her away. Turning on his heels he made to dart out of the room. She held on to him as a last ditch effort, his cloak firmly in her grip. He turned briefly, twisting the cloak in her hands, careful not to handle her roughly.

Her nails dug in deeper into the fabric, holding on with surprising intensity. He hissed, shrugged off the offending cloak and made a run for it, almost tripping on the stool in his path.

“Damnation! He got away!” She scowled in unrestrained anger. Cursing loudly as she kicked off everything in her path.

A servant rushed in at that moment, wide eyed in horror, wondering what had made the mistress call out so loudly.

“The Hebrew, the blasted Hebrew!” her body shook tremulously as the cloak flailed wildly in her hands, the shame and anger working her very last nerve...

*And so the lie was concocted, the same one that started the future minister on the turbulent journey of incarceration.

**********

Hi Guys. Ok, so it was Jo legging it away from Mrs. P.

I guess I just got to thinking how the whole temptation thing works. Bottom line is, if you can stay, you can also walk away.

God bless you.

Roy